Portraits
by Sherlocked95
Summary: Follow up to 'Christmas Cookies' and previous. Prompt fill for icouldbereadingfanfic on tumblr who asked for Merlin painting Arthur's portrait. Having his portrait painted by Merlin is a lot more intense than Arthur imagined.


"You're wriggling."

"I'm _not_."

"I told you to keep still," there's barely concealed amusement in Merlin's tone.

"And I'm doing exactly that," Arthur insists.

Merlin simply laughs and pins him with a gently reprimanding look. "Sit still, Arthur."

When he'd asked Merlin to paint his portrait, he'd expected it to be easy. He'd sit still in whatever silly pose Merlin talks him into doing (because it's _Merlin_, of course he'll grab the opportunity to make Arthur look ridiculous) and Merlin would paint. It'd be nice and domestic.

It's the exact opposite of _easy_.

He _is _sat down, a few feet away from Merlin in his cottage by the fireplace, the flames casting a glow across his profile and making the room look warm, inviting. He's on one of the dining table chairs but, to his surprise, Merlin hadn't sweet talked him into a ridiculous pose; instead, he's sat in a casual pose, looking right at Merlin. He's supposed to keep his expression straight but he can't help but smile fondly at the look of concentration on Merlin's face.

But it's difficult. Because Merlin is _stunning_ like this. He's watched him paint before, admired how he works and witnessed the beauty that is Merlin when he's doing what he truly loves. But being on the receiving end of Merlin's undivided attention like this is intoxicating. Watching how Merlin's long, lean fingers flutter around the brush, his hand moving with sure movements across the canvas. Seeing how Merlin's eyes focus on him and nothing else, taking in every detail, intense in a way that leaves Arthur warm and breathless. The way he sucks his lower lip between his lower lip as he focuses and pops the end of his paintbrush between his lips as he fiddles with a rag or mixes paint.

Merlin is gorgeous like this and having his rapt attention on Arthur as he paints him, he can't help but drink it in, arousal building, hot and heavy. He shifts in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position, and Merlin grins slightly. Arthur narrows his eyes; Merlin knows _exactly_ the effect he has on him.

"Done," Merlin finally announces.

Arthur gets to his feet and crosses the space between them. He stands behind Merlin, resting his hands on his shoulders and massaging gently as he studies the painting. It's good – _really_ good. Rather brilliant, actually, though he didn't expect anything less. Merlin's painted him with the glow of the fire casting his face into softness, his blonde hair slightly tousled, and his blue eyes are sparkling, matching the affectionate smile playing on his mouth, and yes, Merlin is definitely best at portraits because the fact that he has captured this, the look of a man completely and utterly in love with the artist, is incredible.

"Do you like it?" Merlin asks. "If you don't, I have other paintings and sketches of you. You can take a look at them."

"You've painted me before?" he says, surprised.

Merlin looks down with a slight smile, a blush dusting his cheeks. "You're sort of my favourite face to draw. Can you blame me? You're rather gorgeous, you know."

"Mm," Arthur smiles, cupping Merlin's face and tilting it up. "I guess you're a very lucky man, then."

"Arguable," Merlin teases.

Arthur leans down and kisses his mouth, stroking his thumbs across Merlin's jaw as he slides his tongue across his lower lip, tasting him. Merlin smiles into the kiss, standing to press their bodies together, arms snaking around his middle. His long fingers dance along Arthur's spine as they kiss and he hums in contentment at the touch.

Some paint flakes off Merlin's cheek under Arthur's thumb and he pulls back, chuckling softly. Merlin's hands, up to his elbows, are spattered with paint; there are some smears on his old T-shirt and a few flakes on his face. Arthur's used to how messy Merlin can be after painting; he's used to feeling the roughness of dry paint when they hold hands, or chuckling when he notices paint on Merlin's chin when they're out on a date, or finding paint in the strangest places when they make love, like his hipbone or the back of his knee.

"You need a shower," he murmurs against Merlin's lips.

Merlin's eyes light up. "I do love your shower."

Arthur's bathroom is state of the art with a walk in pressure shower. He's rather fond of it too. Still, he can't help but pretend to pout as he says, "I'm sure you love that shower more than you love me."

"Maybe," Merlin acknowledges with a cheeky grin. "But you know what I love most? When you join me in the shower."

Arthur smirks and chases him up to the bathroom.

* * *

**I'm currently accepting prompts for this 'verse or anything else you'd like to see, so if you have one, feel free to leave a prompt in my askbox on tumblr.**

**Tumblr: dontbeobviousmoriarty**


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